


Operation Eros

by aurora_australis



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Matchmaking, SSR Confidential, Whiskey - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:35:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24666970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurora_australis/pseuds/aurora_australis
Summary: It had been a terrible idea.In Peggy’s defense, it hadn’t beenherterrible idea… but it had been a terrible idea all the same. And shehadgone along with it.And now the operation had been blown. All that was left was to try and salvage the operative.Or: Peggy and Jarvis Play Matchmaker.
Relationships: Peggy Carter & Edwin Jarvis, Peggy Carter & Jack Thompson
Comments: 16
Kudos: 31
Collections: SSR Confidential 2020





	Operation Eros

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aestas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aestas/gifts).



> Thank you for your great prompt notes - hope you enjoy the story!

It had been a terrible idea.

In Peggy’s defense, it hadn’t been _her_ terrible idea… but it had been a terrible idea all the same.

And she _had_ gone along with it.

With a sigh, Peggy moved to open the van door.

A hand reached out to stop her.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Peggy sighed again. “The operation is blown. All that’s left now is to try and salvage the operative.”

She jumped out the van, closed the door behind her, and crossed the street to the little boardwalk restaurant. 

She approached the man in question, who looked up in surprise at her presence, followed quickly by resignation.

“Is this seat taken?” she asked.

He rolled his eyes and gestured for her to sit.

This had all been a terrible idea.

\---------------------

It had started three days earlier.

Peggy had been running late, as she always was. So Jarvis had come inside to wait for her, as he always did. 

He’d been chatting with Rose in reception when Peggy and Jack had come downstairs together, arguing about the best way to bug a local gangster’s office. 

And that’s where they’d all been when it happened.

Irene Claremont, SSR secretary (and aspiring actress if the headshots she hid poorly in her desk were any indication) bounded into the room, headed for home, only to stop when she saw Jack.

She waited until there was a lull in the argument, then walked over and put her hand on his forearm.

“Chief Thompson? I was wondering if you’d filled out that requisition form yet.”

Jack turned, surprised at the interruption, and looked down at his arm awkwardly.

“The, uh…”

“It’s just, if you’re having trouble I could help.” She leaned in and the hand on his arm rose up to his bicep. “I’d be happy to help,” she assured him from below lowered lashes.

Jack blushed. Honest to god blushed, which Peggy wouldn’t have believed if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes. Jack blushed and stammered and thanked her using at least fifteen more words than were necessary before excusing himself with a pretext so flimsy Peggy briefly mistook it for a dress worn by one of Howard Stark’s dates.

There was a look shared between Peggy and Jarvis, pointed and ever so British, but they didn’t speak of it. Not at the time and not for many hours after. Not until breakfast the next morning, when Peggy was drinking her tea and grumbling on the phone to Daniel about Jack’s poor plan to execute the wiretap warrant.

“Perhaps Miss Claremont could help,” Jarvis suggested as he poured them both another cup after she’d hung up.

Peggy snorted into her Earl Grey. 

“Not that it wouldn’t be extremely amusing to watch Jack Thompson try to woo someone, but I don’t think I have the time to wait for him to form a coherent sentence as he does.”

Jarvis nodded. “Yes, he did seem to… sputter a bit, around her, didn’t he?” Jarvis chuckled a little over his own cup. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man turn that shade of red outside of one of Mr. Stark’s more ill-advised experiments.”

“Then we must help him!”

Peggy and Jarvis looked up to see Ana’s bright smile beaming at them from the doorway.

“Oh, I don’t — ”

“That really wouldn’t — ”

“Nonsense.” Ana was firm as she walked over to the counter to cut herself a slice of coffee cake. “If Chief Thompson is sweet on someone we must help him court her.”

Jarvis, who was looking increasingly uncomfortable in the corner, stepped forward. “Darling, I really don’t think we should get involved.”

“Oh poppycock.” Ana plated her pastry and took a seat at the table.

“Mrs. Jarvis,” Peggy began kindly. “Chief Thompson is not the kind of man one helps… set up.”

Ana frowned with the fork halfway to her mouth. “Why?”

“Why what?” Peggy asked.

“Why is Chief Thompson not the kind of man who deserves your help?”

She asked the question so guilelessly that both Peggy and Jarvis froze, neither able to answer her in a way that would satisfy either Ana or themselves.

Ana took a bite of her breakfast, waiting for either of the other two people in the room to speak. When they did not, she took it as a sign of agreement.

“Excellent! Let’s get to work then, shall we?”

“How…” Peggy coughed. “How would you suggest we do that?”

“Well this is what you do, isn’t it? You have a mission objective, you plan for success, you see it though.” She took another bite and smiled. “This is just another mission, albeit a more romantic one.”

There was a look shared between Peggy and Jarvis, pointed and ever so British, of resigned surrender.

“Lovely!” Ana chirped, finishing her coffee cake in triumph.

Which was how, three days later, Jarvis, Ana and Peggy found themselves in a surveillance van across the street from a charming little restaurant in Santa Monica.

Peggy could have confused it with a regular SSR mission except Ana had brought stakeout snacks.

“This is quite exciting!” exclaimed the woman in question, passing out cookies. “I’ve never been in a surveillance van before.”

Peggy took a bite of her biscuit and shook her head. “And you still haven’t, at least officially. If Daniel finds out why I requisitioned this…”

“Oh I wouldn’t worry about that. I’m sure you have your ways of smoothing things over with Chief Sousa.” Ana winked at her and Peggy looked away, ignoring the flush on her face as she did.

“See anything, Mr. Jarvis?” she asked instead, changing the subject.

“I do, Miss Carter, and this is a disaster.” 

“What’s happening?” Peggy asked, suddenly worried. Jack had only just healed from the attempt on his life and his assailant had yet to be identified — she would be lying if she said she wasn’t always just a little bit worried about him.

“That waiter is serving a Riesling. With steak! This… this… _truck stop_ isn’t fit for Chief Thompson’s date. Abort. Abort!”

Peggy rolled her eyes. “Do you see anything _besides_ the culinary faux pas?” she clarified.

Jarvis grunted, clearly still unconvinced that what he’d seen wasn’t worth abandoning the whole scheme. “No, Chief Thompson is just sitting at the table, drinking his whisky and waiting. I think — oh, here comes the waiter! All right, Chief Thompson is following him towards the office.”

“Excellent!” Ana clapped her hands. “Chief Sousa is calling right on schedule. This was a wonderful idea.”

“This was a harebrained idea,” Jarvis muttered.

“This was a solid idea,” Peggy compromised, though she had her doubts. Still, it boded well that Daniel’s call was right on schedule, though really she’d expected nothing less — Daniel had agreed to his part of the plan exceptionally quickly, though he’d also asked that no details be shared with him, apparently happy enough to stand up Jack for any reason whatsoever. 

Peggy held out her hand to Jarvis for the binoculars, which he handed over with a terribly refined huff. Jack was making his way back to his table now, looking annoyed. Perhaps not the best way to begin their little gambit, but needs must.

“Do you see Miss Claremont yet?” Ana asked eagerly. “She should be arriving any moment.”

“No, not yet,” Peggy informed her. “And if she has any sense whatsoever she’ll turn around the minute she sees Jack in a mood anyway.”

Ana frowned. “Hush now, Miss Carter. I’m sure she could do much worse than Chief Thompson on a bad day, and would be hard pressed to do better on a good.” 

Peggy nodded, unconvinced of that fact herself, but quite willing to let the matter drop for Ana’s sake; she sometimes forgot how close the two had become during their tandem rehabilitations and how very fond Ana was of Jack. Peggy was also saved from having to remark any further on the subject by the timely arrival of Irene Claremont, picking up the dinner order for Rose.

Peggy watched as Irene asked the waiter for the order and was told, as arranged by Rose, that it would be ready in 20 minutes. Irene looked around and spotted Jack sitting alone at the table.

Showtime.

“She’s here,” Peggy announced to the van and both Ana and Jarvis scrambled to get a better look out the tinted window. 

Irene made her way over to Jack, a slight sashay in her step which Peggy didn’t fault her for but didn’t feel was necessary either. She said something to Jack from behind him, startling him a bit, and not for the first time Peggy regretted not planting a listening device on the table.

The three of them watched from the van as Irene spoke a bit more, then made to sit in the empty seat next to Jack, just as they’d hoped she would when they planned this whole thing.

What they had NOT planned for was Jack moving to push the chair back under the table with an apologetic shrug. Irene floundered for a minute, both of them becoming increasingly embarrassed, before walking away awkwardly and taking a seat at the bar.

Peggy, Jarvis and Ana all rocked back in their seats simultaneously.

“Oh,” Ana said, clearly disappointed. Jarvis reached over and took her hand. 

“There, there, my dear. Not every couple is love at first sight. We can try again.”

Through her binoculars, Peggy watched Jack finish his drink in one go, watched his jaw clench and unclench.

She had her doubts about trying again.

With a sigh, Peggy moved to open the van door.

Jarvis reached out to stop her.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Peggy sighed again. “The operation is blown. All that’s left now is to try and salvage the operative.”

She jumped out the van, closed the door behind her, and, after taking a moment to steel herself, crossed the street to the little boardwalk restaurant. 

She approached Jack, who looked up in surprise at her presence, followed quickly by resignation.

“Is this seat taken?” she asked.

He rolled his eyes and gestured for her to sit.

“Thank you,” she told him. Her eyes flickered from Jack to Irene, still sat across the patio, and Jack’s expression hardened slightly.

“Wait a minute… was this a setup? Daniel and the… what the hell, Carter? Why — ”

A waiter walked over, interrupting Jack’s tirade, for which Peggy was grateful.

“Would you or the lady like anything else?” he asked Jack.

“Yeah, two whiskeys.” The waiter nodded and Jack continued. “Oh, sorry, you want anything Marge?”

Peggy rolled her eyes. “A bourbon please. Neat.”

The waiter nodded again and walked away, leaving the two colleagues alone.

Jack grit his teeth and stared ahead. 

“I’m sorry,” Peggy said quietly.

That got his attention.

“Wow… this little charade was almost worth it to hear you say that. Maybe you should throw random ladies at me more often.”

“She wasn’t random. We saw you talking to her the other night, and you seemed… smitten. We were only trying to help. We thought you just needed a little… push.”

“Yeah, right off a cliff.” Jack sat up a little straighter. “Wait, _we_?”

“Me and Mr. Jarvis. And Ana. Mostly Ana.”

“Ah,” he replied, his expression softening as he did. It seemed that particular affinity went both ways. Plus, Jack knew better than most that Ana could be rather hard to say no to; he had several knitted ties in regular rotation that emphasized the point rather well. 

“Yes. We were trying to get you and Miss Claremont alone somewhere away from the SSR. Daniel would call and cancel your plans for dinner, and the restaurant would delay the dinner order, and… sparks.”

“Well you overshot the mark, Carter. Big ol’ disaster flames instead.”

“Yes, I noticed,” Peggy said dryly. “May I ask why?”

“Why?”

“Why not invite Miss Claremont to sit with you while she waited? I’ve spoken with her. She’s not terribly dull and she’s quite pretty. Why not — ”

The waiter reappeared with their drinks and Peggy paused, waiting until he’d left again to continue.

“I’m just saying you could do worse,” she noted, taking a fairly large swig of her bourbon as she did. “And you did blush when she flirted with you. I’m not sure why we were supposed to interpret that as non-interest.”

Jack sighed. “It’s not… easy for me,” he muttered and Peggy sat up straighter at his tone. This wasn’t petulant Jack or arrogant Jack or even indifferent Jack. This was just… Jack. Distilled and rare and all the more precious for it. She fiddled with her glass and tried to think of what to say. She finally settled on the truth.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” she told him softly. “But I’d like to help.”

Jack sighed again, staring at his drink. “With women, I mean. I never… I never like ‘em until I do.”

“I don’t follow. Isn’t that how it is with everyone?”

“Maybe, but I feel it… like, I can see a woman and feel absolutely nothing for her, but maybe after we get to know each other a little, then… I do.”

Peggy frowned. “Jack, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to make a connection with a woman before you throw her over your shoulder and drag her back to your cave.”

Jack tried to offer a smile, but it came out more like a grimace. “Yeah, well, tell that to my shipmates.”

Ah.

“So why did you… why blush around Miss Claremont?”

“Because I hate those situations. When it’s real, I mean. For them. I always seem to muck ‘em up.”

Now it was Peggy’s turn to sigh. “I see. And I don’t suppose we helped anything with this little scheme.”

“No,” he confirmed, taking a long drink. “But I know your hearts were in the right place. Even if your heads were up your — ”

“Yes, thank you, you’ve made your point quite vividly.” Peggy tapped her fingers on the table thoughtfully. “Perhaps,” she began slowly, “with this new knowledge I can help. Is there… has there been anyone recently you did feel a connection with?”

Jack very studiously avoided her eyes as he finished the last of his first glass of whisky. “One. But I’m over it. She’s found herself a better man and frankly it would never have worked out anyway.”

“Why?”

Jack tried to offer another smile, and mostly succeeded this time. “She kept pulling guns on me.”

“Oh. Oh!” Peggy swallowed hard and then gulped down the rest of her bourbon for good measure. “Jack, I — ”

“Relax, Carter, I meant it. I’m over it. Really. And I’m happy for you and Sousa, even if he has bitten off _way_ more than he can chew.” Peggy glared at him and Jack threw her an unapologetic grin. “But it made me… I _liked_ the me I was when I felt… that. I think… I think I need a lady who’s gonna challenge me a little.” He looked across the room towards the bar almost sadly. “And that’s probably not Hollywood-bound Irene Claremont.”

“Probably not,” Peggy agreed, though of course she had no idea. She really didn’t know Irene Claremont at all. She’d just assumed blonde and perky checked all of Jack’s boxes. It was… disquieting to be so wrong, even if it did happen from time to time, especially about someone she considered a friend. She tried to take a bracing sip of her drink only to realize it was completely gone. The look Jack shot her at her miscalculation was thoroughly amused.

“So, on a scale of 1 - 10, how uncomfortable are you right now, Carter?”

“I seem to be hovering somewhere around the atomic number for uranium.”

Jack barked out a laugh and some of the tension between them dissipated. “You want some of my whiskey?” he asked, pushing the second glass over.

“Oh dear god, yes.” Peggy accepted it gratefully and took a large sip.

“Well serves you right,” Jack decided, humor in his voice even if he wasn’t a whole lot more comfortable than she was. But he had the moral high ground for once, and it seemed to give him some courage.

The whiskeys were probably also helping.

“Well…” Peggy took one more sip for her own fortitude and put down the glass with renewed resolve, “given that life and death missions to Belarus are unlikely to occur everyday, how do we find you other women to connect with now?”

Jack looked up in surprise. “Excuse me?”

Peggy grabbed a napkin from the table, pulled out a pen from her purse and started writing. “Mission objective: find Jack Thompson a woman who will challenge him, and also put up with him.” She looked up to see Jack staring at her, open-mouthed and dumbfounded. 

“Well, get to it,” she ordered. “Give me some ideas here, I’m not doing this alone.”

Jack shut his mouth, rolled his eyes, and snagged his glass back from her. “Peggy, if I knew where to find women like that, I wouldn’t be accepting dinner invitations from Sousa.”

“Fine.” She started writing and after a few minutes passed the napkin to Jack. “This is your new social calendar.”

Jack started reading her list. “Book club on Tuesdays. Judo on Thursdays. Life-drawing class on Fridays. Surf club on… _surf club_? Carter, what the hell is this?”

“You’re going to start attending events with Rose and Ana and me. You want a woman who’ll challenge you? You’re going to meet the ones that challenge us.” Jack opened his mouth to argue, but Peggy cut him off. “And before you say anything, yes there are men at these events, even if they are in the minority. You’ll be fine, you big baby.”

Jack looked at the list again, the corners of his mouth quirking up in a small smile. 

“Alright,” he agreed.

Peggy let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and squared her shoulders. “Good,” she said simply, putting away her pen. She grabbed the glass back from Jack and took another sip. “Good,” she repeated quietly. “I… you’re a good man, Jack. I really do hope you find someone wonderful.”

Jack nodded, blushing again for a totally different reason. She forgot, sometimes, how much of a stranger he was to honest affection. Forgot how very similar they could be in that respect.

Well… enough of that. She coughed and smoothed down her hair. 

“And if you want someone to kick your arse platonically in the interim, I happily volunteer.”

Jack snorted, the blush lightening as he did, and Peggy hid a smile behind one last sip of whiskey.

“Gee thanks,” he said. He made to take back the glass again only to realize it was empty. “Huh.” He gave her a rueful smile. “Maybe… you want to get dinner? While we’re here? I seem to be more whiskeys in than I realized.”

“Alright,” she agreed. “I’ll just go tell Jarvis and Ana they can leave.” She stood up, then hesitated. “Or… perhaps I shouldn’t interrupt?”

Jack shook his head. “Carter, only you would find a surveillance van romantic.” Peggy chose not to dignify that with a response, even though — especially because — he happened to be right. “Go send off the Jarvises and then come have dinner. We can discuss my social calendar.”

“Fine,” she said. “But we’re also discussing how very idiotic your wiretap plan is.”

“My — yours involves no less than three chorus girls!”

Peggy narrowed her eyes at him. “And yours depends on the goodwill of a bouncer nicknamed ‘No Witness Willy’. Mine is by far the safer and simpler option. Yours is practically suicidal. Really, Jack, you’re my friend and with idiotic ideas like these I would be lying if I said I wasn’t always just a little bit worried about you.”

It was a layered statement after a layered conversation and Peggy worried for a moment this whole thing had perhaps been a bit too much honesty for one or both of them. She needn’t have been concerned; when Jack looked up he was rolling his eyes at her barb, but his smile… his smile was genuine. 

And so, she realized, was hers.

Maybe, just maybe, this hadn’t been an _entirely_ terrible idea after all.

But she was never telling that to the Jarvises.


End file.
